The Price of Treachery

The room fell into a suffocating silence. The nobles' expressions ranged from barely concealed panic to thinly veiled outrage, though none dared speak after Valeria's ominous declaration.

"There are traitors among us," she repeated, her voice slicing through the heavy air. "And they will answer for their crimes."

Duke Harven was the first to break the silence. He rose, his hands trembling slightly as he gripped the edge of the table. "Your Majesty," he began, his voice trembling despite his effort to sound composed. "I have served the crown for decades. Surely, you cannot believe that I would stoop to such dishonor."

Valeria's gaze didn't waver. "This is not a time for self-righteous proclamations, Duke Harven. If you are innocent, you have nothing to fear."

One by one, the nobles followed suit, each eager to declare their loyalty. Lady Mircella's voice was honeyed, her every word dripping with false sincerity. Count Ardyn stumbled over his defense, his forehead glistening with sweat as he denied any wrongdoing.

Valeria remained silent, her face a mask of icy detachment. The nobles' attempts to curry favor only deepened the disgust simmering in her chest.

Arlen, who had been observing the proceedings from her right, finally stepped forward. His presence alone sent a ripple of unease through the room. Though Valeria's authority commanded fear, it was Arlen's reputation as her ruthless enforcer that truly unsettled the nobles.

"I propose," he began, his voice calm yet laced with menace, "an incentive to encourage... cooperation."

The nobles shifted uneasily, their eyes darting toward him like mice watching a serpent.

"Anyone who provides information leading to the capture of the culprits will be rewarded with one thousand gold crowns," Arlen announced, his words deliberate.

The room erupted into murmurs, and Valeria noticed a subtle shift in the atmosphere. The promise of gold had sparked a light in some of their eyes a light she recognized all too well.

Greed.

Valeria leaned back in her chair, allowing herself a moment to observe the reactions. The promise of a thousand gold crowns was no trivial matter.

In this world, the currency system was as rigid as it was stratified. The smallest unit was the copper mark, used by peasants for daily transactions a loaf of bread or a mug of ale could be purchased with a handful of them. Next came silver shards, ten of which equaled one gold crown. The gold crown was the currency of the affluent, a single coin enough to feed a family of four for months. Above that was the platinum sovereign, a coin so rare it was said only nobles and royalty ever held them.

A thousand gold crowns was a fortune beyond the imagination of most. For some of the lesser nobles in this room, it was a prize worth betraying their peers for.

Valeria's lips curled into a cold smile. "Well?" she asked, her voice cutting through the murmurs. "Does no one have anything to say?"

For a moment, the room was still. Then, slowly, a hand rose.

The first accusation came from a baron seated near the end of the table, a man whose name Valeria struggled to recall. His thin face was twisted into an expression of triumph as he pointed at a younger noble.

"It was him! Lord Geralt has always lived beyond his means, despite his modest holdings. Surely, that gold has been lining his pockets!"

The young lord in question recoiled, his face flushing. "Lies! I've done no such thing!"

The accusations snowballed from there, each noble eager to shift blame onto someone else. Valeria listened in silence, her cold gaze never leaving their squabbling faces.

At her side, Arlen remained impassive, though Valeria caught the faintest glimmer of amusement in his eyes.

Eventually, the noise reached a crescendo, and Valeria's patience wore thin. She raised a hand, and the room fell silent as the oppressive weight of her presence settled over them.

"Enough," she said, her voice dangerously low.

The shadows in the room seemed to lengthen, responding to her fraying control. A shiver ran down the spine of every noble present.

Arlen stepped forward again, his sharp gaze sweeping over the room. "We already know who the culprits are," he said calmly. "This exercise was merely to observe your reactions."

The nobles stiffened, their faces draining of color.

Arlen smirked, his expression as sharp as a blade. "And you didn't disappoint. The guilty parties have already revealed themselves through their panic and deflection."

Valeria's fingers tapped lightly against the table, her gaze cold and unyielding. "Arlen."

He nodded, stepping to her side. "The culprits are none other than Lord Geralt and Lady Mircella."

Gasps echoed through the chamber as all eyes turned to the accused. Geralt's face was pale, his mouth opening and closing soundlessly. Mircella, for her part, tried to compose herself, but her trembling hands betrayed her fear.

"This is preposterous!" Mircella hissed. "I would never—"

"Silence," Valeria snapped.

The room fell deathly quiet.

Valeria rose to her feet, her imposing figure casting a long shadow over the table. "You embezzled funds from the crown. You stole from the kingdom you swore to serve. Your greed has condemned you."

Geralt collapsed into his chair, his head in his hands. Mircella looked as though she might faint.

Arlen's smile widened, his voice cutting through the silence like a blade. "And for your crimes, you will be executed before the kingdom."

The nobles recoiled, shock and fear etched into their faces.

Valeria's gaze swept over the room, her expression unreadable. "Let this serve as a reminder," she said coldly. "Treachery will not be tolerated in my kingdom."

The room was silent as her words hung in the air, a chilling promise of what was to come.